


Ascending

by alitaire



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, a retelling of the series through Yuri's eyes, may add more tags as i continue, there is victuuri but man Yuri doesn't like thinking about it, yuri is secretly a fanboy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-09-12 20:16:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9089101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alitaire/pseuds/alitaire
Summary: People are always told to never meet their idols. Yuri Plisetsky finds that he knows his far too well.
Or How Yuri Really Needs to Choose Better Role Models.
(A retelling of the series from Yuri's pov)





	1. Chapter 1

Yuri Plisetsky’s first idol was Victor Nikiforov.

This fact wasn’t particularly surprising considering the silver haired man had enchanted the figure skating world from the moment he entered the senior division at 16. No, that’s not quite true. Even before that when he was only in the junior division, Nikiforov radiated an aura of charm that made it difficult for anyone to look away. Even Yuri could not turn away from the television as the man danced across the ice, his hair and costume shining in the light.

His form and jumps screamed technical perfection. His movements and grace sang of stories of power, rebirth, and love.

He was like water flowing on ice. Ethereal and beautiful.

So when Yuri finally met the man, he felt betrayed.

_And the pedestal cracked ever so slightly._

He had trained for three grueling years in Yakov Feltsman’s boot camp, even moving from Moscow to St. Petersburg to further his training and to prepare for his junior debut when he turned 13. The seasoned coach was gruff and demanding, but worked alongside his skaters to help them grow. He reminded Yuri vaguely of his grandfather, and Yuri half expected Victor Nikiforov, Yakov’s star pupil, to be like his mentor.

Solemn, serious, and proud as the hero of Russia.

Well, one out of three wasn’t _too_ bad.

Victor was a fanciful man Yuri learned. Despite being 12 years his junior, Yuri often found himself frustrated by the older man’s antics and ideas. The man was certainly creative, a genius as many had dubbed him, but as many good ideas and choreographies Victor came up with, twice as many bizarre and terrible ones were spouted out. During those times, Yuri found himself impressed with Yakov’s patience all these years.

Victor was certainly prideful however. He was good and he knew it. Not that it meant he was complacent, oh no. Even after two consecutive gold medals at Worlds, Victor was still growing and becoming even better. With each year, the gap between him and his competitors would only widen as he perfected himself. With most of the skaters of his age group retiring, it was the young blood that was challenging him now, and Victor welcomed them with a sweet smile on his lips.

_Just try and tear the gold from me._

Yuri found his admiration for the man tempered with the reality that the same refined and exacting skater was also this whimsical man who so petty that he refused to talk to Yakov _for over a week_ until the old man allowed him to go through with his _Sex Bomb_ act.

Yuri dealt with his disappointment the best he could.

“Leave me the fuck alone!”

“Aw Yura! You would look cute!” Victor whines, skating after the blonde, a pair of cat ears in hand.

Yuri dashes as far as possible from the man, only to be caught by a snickering Mila. He struggles but to no avail against her vice-like grip, and Yuri looks up in panic and despair as Victor Nikiforov looms over him with an innocent smile.

“Why is it always me?!”

The two conspirators share a look before nodding in sync, a silent message shared in their glance. Yuri feels his stomach drop at the assuredness in their eyes.

“You have the best reactions,” Victor chirps simply.

The fact that the ears are leopard print doesn’t comfort him in the slightest.

* * *

When he is 14, Yuri decides that Victor is an ideal.

The man choreographs his own programs and executes them flawlessly, the increasing difficulty of each successive routine betraying the fact that Victor was approaching his 26th birthday and was practically _ancient_ by ice skating standards.

An ideal.

Something for Yuri to aspire to and overcome, but at the same time, something that felt almost out of human reach.

_I need to become better. I have to._

So Yuri practices his quads and unheeding of Yakov’s outraged shouts, he sneaks one in during a competition. He preens under the praise raining down on him.

The next Victor Nikiforov they call him and he can see himself, gold medals looped around his neck, sponsors scrambling to speak to him. Considering he’s only a junior competitor, Yuri has an impressive number of sponsors, but once he enters the senior division...

“Choreograph a program just for me! One that’ll win me gold!” He demands, glaring up at Victor. Always, always looking up but he will reach that ideal one day.

“Okay.”

Victor smiles down and meets him halfway, their hands clasped, sealing the promise.

* * *

 

It’s at Yuri’s second qualifying event at the NHK Trophy when he first sees the other Yuuri.

He had already won his competition, gold medal stowed away in his bag, and was meeting with Yakov to support Georgi.

When he saw the name Yuuri Katsuki in the lineup, he wanted to scream. A person with his same name? In the senior division? The division _he_ , Yuri Plisetsky, was joining next year?

_Absolutely not_.

Yuri’s rage dissipates as he watches the Japanese Yuuri perform. He is no Nikiforov, but there’s something about his performance that draws Yuri in. The free skate is over before he knows it.

He’s good. _Really good_.

Sure, the Japanese Yuuri had plenty of technical problems- he over rotated on his quad salchow and he stepped out of his triple loop- but his presentation. His _step sequences_.

Yuri begrudgingly claps as the Japanese man holds up his gold medal at the podium, his timid smile being outshone by the excited sparkle in his eyes.

“It looks like Yuuri Katsuki has qualified for the Grand Prix,” Yakov grumbles beside Yuri. “Georgi will have to work hard at Rostelecom if he wants to catch up,” he sighs, but Yuri isn’t listening, focused and staring fixedly at the man on the podium.

_What would a perfect performance from you look like?_

He would never admit it, but Yuri finds that he really wants to see it.

* * *

 

Soon after, Yuri finds himself trying to find everything he could about the other skater.

Yuuri Katsuki is 22 and this is his first time qualifying for the Grand Prix Final. Yuri was initially surprised by that fact considering how long the man had been competing. Technical issues aside, Katsuki is a solid skater as he had displayed on his home turf, but as Yuri watched more and more videos of the man’s skating, he began to understand.

Known as the figure skater with the biggest glass heart, Yuuri Katsuki is highly inconsistent in competitions. It is universally agreed that the man suffered from performance anxiety, a shame and waste of his skills as some had bemoaned. But he had qualified for the Grand Prix Final. Maybe Katsuki had found a way to deal with his issues? Yuri decides to push that issue aside and instead clicks on another video.

It is from the Japanese nationals, with Yuuri in an odd Celtic looking outfit performing _Lohengrin_. The man looks free and moves with a grace that parallels Victor’s.

No, it’s better than Victor’s because it is attainable. It feels _human_. This Yuuri Katsuki is nowhere near the same level as Victor, but Yuri finds himself unable to pull his eyes away despite the faults in the performance. Despite all the man’s untouchable beauty on the ice, every mistake brings him back to the Earth, and Yuri realizes that a new pedestal has been set.

He would vehemently deny it, but Yuri has found another idol.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri is way too underage for this.

“Yura? What are you doing here so early?”

It’s early morning, dawn just barely rising over the sleepy St. Petersburg skyline. Yuri normally doesn’t practice in the early mornings, preferring afternoon practices so he doesn’t have conflicts with his school schedule and more importantly, his sleep schedule. But after watching video after video, routine after routine the night prior, Yuri felt strangely buoyant. He had woken up early, hours before his alarm with a strange buzz under his skin.

He wants to move.

He wants to _skate_.

_He’s beautiful. I want to move like that._

“How did you get in?” Victor prods, not flinching when Yuri swats at the man’s inquisitive finger.

“Eva let me in,” Yuri mumbles as he skates to the barrier for some water. His lungs are burning, and his legs are aching, but it’s not enough to satisfy the itch in his body.

_That wasn’t right. It was more free, more natural._

Yuri can feel Victor’s gaze on him and he can feel himself bristling. He had hoped that he could be alone in the rink since it was early even for Yakov, but of course Victor would be here. The man practically lived on the ice. He had been thriving here for over a decade now and whenever the Victor had something on his mind, he would always retreat to the solace of the ice.

Recently however, the living legend was almost a constant fixture of the rink, even more so than usual. He danced about, a flurry of ideas and routines that he created and discarded in a manic frustration. Something was eating away at the man, and Yuri is sure that he does not want to be involved in whatever is going on in Victor’s life.

Even if skating _is_ Victor’s life.

After taking another a gulp of water, he snaps, “If you want to say something, just say it.”

“Nothing it’s just…” Victor is giving him an inscrutable look, his gloved finger pressed against his lips. “That was different. That’s not one of your routines is it?”

For a brief moment, Yuri panics. What Victor recognizes that it was Katsuki’s routine that had won him a spot in the Grand Prix Final? He would never hear the end of Victor and Mila’s teasing. But Victor didn’t _seem_ to recognize it, and he wasn’t always the most observant person, even if Katsuki was a rival skater.

“…It was just something I wanted to work on,” Yuri mumbles finally, scanning Victor’s face. It’s not a lie, but Victor has that knowing smile again.

“Oh really? But where is it-”

“Anyway, what are _you_ doing here so early? Yakov isn’t going to be here for another-” He glances at his phone. “-another half hour. Aren’t your routines good enough without needing the extra practice?” Yuri sneers a little bit at the end, relieved that Victor backs off at his tone, the man’s normally bright blue eyes suddenly hardened and defensive at the question.

“I just wanted some time to think to myself. Eva lets me in all the time.”

“You live alone,” Yuri points out. “You can think at home.”

“It’s not the same, Yura,” Victor sighs as he skates away to warm up. Yuri grumbles to himself before retreating to the opposite side of the rink. Victor is still watching him, his gaze isn’t subtle _at all_ , but there’s still energy bubbling in Yuri. He glances up, catching Victor’s gaze, before the man immediately breaks eye contact, nonchalantly skating figures.

_Fine. If he wants to watch, I’ll just do something he’ll never recognize._

Yuri moves.

A particular video plays in his mind. It’s Skate America from 5 years ago. The man’s movements are unpolished and his jumps are practically an insult to Yuri’s technical skills, but Yuri watched the video again and again until he could envision every movement in his mind. From the tilt of Katsuki’s body as he slid into a Biellmann spin to the tiniest flick of his wrist, the rhinestones glittering on the man’s ruffled blue and white costume, Yuri could see it all.

“I’ve never seen you skate like such an amateur, Yura.”

His eyes snap open, and Yuri spins out of his pose, gaping at the Victor like a dead fish.

“What _the fuck_ did you just say.”

“Those jumps were so basic and uninteresting. Yours usually have more difficult entries and are much more… wow!” He makes a small popping noise as if that emphasized his point. “And that spin wasn’t _bad_ , but you were obviously straining a bit to hold it properly. When was the last time you practiced ballet?”

Yuri’s mind is barely following Victor’s words, but the man continues. “And that step sequence! There was potential but the way you trudged through it! I know Yakov has been nagging you to work on them, but it was like you were made of _lead_ -”

Practically no one is out on the streets this early in the morning.

_Eva’s would be the only witness_ , his brain whispers. _She wouldn’t snitch._

“-it’s not a bad program really, but it capitalizes nothing that you’re good at and-”

_He’s still going_.

“Like you could have done it better,” Yuri snaps without thinking, regretting his words immediately. Of course, Victor could do it better. He’s _Victor fucking Nikiforov_.

“Oh?” Victor raises an eyebrow, a smug smile quirking up his lips as he skates back to the center of the rink. “But I can.”

Less than a minute later, Yuri storms out of the rink, paying no heed to Eva’s shout from the receptionist’s counter.

_Morning practices are overrated_ , he decides.

* * *

“Russia’s Yuri Plisetsky has ended his final Junior Grand Prix with another stunning performance!”

He holds his pose for a second longer before stepping out to respond to the audience’s cheers. The shrill shrieks of the Angels are distinctive and Yuri pointedly avoids waving in their direction as he skates around the rink before exiting for the kiss and cry.

His breathing is labored as his lungs fight to pull in more air after his free skate, but even that familiar burn can’t distract him from the burning disappointment he feels.

It was a good performance. But it wasn’t _perfect_.

He can feel it weighing down his smile, turning it more into a grimace, and he can see it on Yakov’s face when he hands Yuri his skate guards.

Yuri doesn’t hear Yakov’s lecture. It’s probably the same thing he’s always criticizing. Something about his step sequences, his presentation, his _emotions_.

_If I knew how to improve, don’t you think I would?_ He wants to scream.

Yuri’s starts to listen again when he announcer’s voice returns and Yakov’s stops. The score flashes on the display and the stadium audience’s cheers become almost deafening.

“It could have been better, but well done,” Yakov grumbles, giving a small nod of approval. Yuri doesn’t respond, staring at the numbers displayed. He almost lets out a dry bark of laughter at the huge gap in points dividing gold and silver.

It wasn’t perfect.

It was still enough.

* * *

Victor takes gold.

Of course he does.

His performance is like a siren’s song. It pulls you in, whispering for you to keep watching, come closer, don’t look away. But Yuri isn’t paying attention, a heavy disappointment distracting him from another record breaking performance.

_It was his first time in the Grand Prix Final. Maybe he was nervous_ , he reasons and he remembers the skater’s expression as the crowd clapped at the end of his performance. The same expression Yuri saw after every fall and every stumble that had tainted what should have been a beautiful performance. His expression was a reflection of Yuri’s own thoughts.

_He could have- no,_ should have _done better._

This thought carried Yuri through the halls of the Sochi stadium, his hood pulled up and his strides angry and determined.

What had to happened? Katsuki had always been a little inconsistent, but this was more than that. His short program just two days prior had been beautiful, almost flawless. It had been a personal best for the skater, making him a strong contender for the two remaining spots on the podium that Victor wasn’t occupying.

Katsuki was known to occasionally crash, but this much less a crash and more like an absolute annihilation of the man’s aspirations and an insult to every accolade he had ever earned. The performance was an embarrassment. Even the step sequences and spins the skater was so famous for were lacking compared to what Yuri had seen before.

_It was pathetic._

And now every commentator and reporter was whispering about rumors of retirement for Japan’s ace after his terrific failure. _This kind of result would crush anyone’s will_ , they said. _Could this be the end of his career?_

Plenty of skaters have retired after a defeat like this. Figure skating was fiercely competitive and there were always new, younger skaters rising up the ranks. Yuri himself was a testament to that. But plenty kept going and this was too early for Katsuki. He has so much potential, he could do so much _more_. Yuri had seen the disappointment on the man’s face when the scores were announced. The slump of his body and the grim line of his mouth as he sat with his coach at the kiss and cry. He didn’t have the expression of someone who was going to give up.

He couldn’t give up here.

_I still want to skate against you._

“Yuuri! Where are you going?”

Yuri blinks, looking up in surprise at the unfamiliar voice. He then immediately throws himself behind a corner, peering cautiously in hopes that he hadn’t been spotted.

“I… I need to make a call. I’ll be right back coach,” Yuuri Katsuki says as he turns and walks down the corridor that Yuri had just vacated. The blonde lets out a sigh of relief when the man passes him without a glance before he freezes.

What is he doing? Why is he hiding?

He’s just a fellow skater. No reason to hide like a creep.

Instead of entertaining that thought, the teen finds himself trailing after the other skater as his brain continues to scream, _What the fuck are you doing?! Stop!_

Katsuki pushes his way into the men’s restroom, and Yuri rounds the corner and leans against the wall to steady himself. No need to act weird or creepy. He just wants to know what the man who shares his name is like. He’s just going to talk to the skater as a future competitor, maybe some consoling words about his performance and-

“Oh, fuck it,” he breaths and shoves his way into the bathroom.

For a moment, Yuri wonders where the skater is, before he hears a quiet murmur in some foreign language, _probably Japanese_ his mind offers, coming from a stall. He pauses in front of the stall and his mind’s screams return. Katsuki is still talking on the phone and likely hasn’t noticed him yet. Maybe he should just go. Casually wait outside and approach him somewhere that’s _not_ the bathroom so he doesn’t look like a creep that followed him here. Even if that was exactly what he just did.

He is about to turn and leave when he hears a choked sob coming from the stall in front of him and freezes.

Yuuri Katsuki has failed before. He would fumble and crash and fall, but he would always pull himself from the ice and keep going. He was a quiet, solemn man who held himself with dignity and grace. Even tonight when he had faced his last place score at the kiss and cry, he had been strong and unwavering.

_He’s crying._

What a lie.

_I thought you were better._

Yuri feels the disappointment rising like bile and grits his teeth as the muffled sniffles continue.

_I thought you were stronger._

Frustrated, his body moves without input and he kicks the stall as hard as he can. The voice inside lets out a surprised yelp and the restroom is quiet for a moment before the stall door swings open, a puffy-eyed Yuuri Katsuki staring down in confusion.

“I’m sorry I….”

The man trails off as he nervously returns Yuri’s gaze. He’s glaring, he’s scowling, _he’s angry_ and his mind is a maelstrom of emotions as he stands before the man that he had admired.

“Hey.” His voice sounds foreign. It’s too clear, too calm. “I’m competing in the senior division next year.”       

He wants the man to say something. Anything. But he remains silent and Yuri faintly realizes that the man is trembling. His breathing harshens.

“We don’t need two Yuris in the same bracket. Incompetents like you should just retire already.” Yuri doesn’t like the way Katsuki is looking down at him, confused and uncomprehending. Yuri tries to pull himself up, so that they’re eye to eye and yells. Katsuki leans back, vainly trying to escape his rage.

_I wanted to be at the same level as you. I wanted to be your equal. But you’re just another disappointment._

They stare back at one another for a moment, Katsuki still silently staring at him looking unsure and almost frightened. Yuri clucks his tongue in frustration and stalks away, throwing open the bathroom door with as much force as he can muster as if it is the source of his frustration.

_He is an idiot, a moron. I’m not going to be like him_.

Yakov scolds him for returning late, his voice raising to a shout when Yuri ignores him.

_I’m going to be better. I’ll win gold._

* * *

Yuri hates banquets. It’s all tight suits and stuffy simpering adults. If it wasn’t for the fact that they were the best opportunity to talk to sponsors, he would avoid them entirely. Well, that and the fact that Yakov would never let him miss them when he wins gold.

“It’s only the junior division,” he mutters, pulling at the tie constricting his collar and taking a sip of water. He eyes the sparkling glasses of alcohol lining the far table, but Yakov is hovering close by, ready in case his skaters get into trouble. Again.

“You’ll be 15 soon. You can make a fool of yourself then,” Victor says brightly next to him, taking an elegant sip of his flute of champagne as he smiles at another approaching sponsor. Yuri sticks close to Victor out of the promise that he would introduce him to some of his sponsors (“oh did I say that? Sure, I don’t mind!”), but he’s regretting the decision now. He could be back in his hotel room calling his grandfather or playing video game. Instead he’s here, choking out pleasantries and trying to look like he doesn’t want to strangle anyone who approaches him.

“Hey hey! Check me ouuuuut!”

And now some drunk idiot managed to bypass security and-  Yuri chokes on his water as the familiar figure of Katsuki Yuuri staggers towards him and Victor, a bottle of champagne in hand. Yuri jumps back with a screech as Katsuki trips over nothing and sloshes champagne everywhere.

“What the fuck?!”

If no one had noticed the drunken mess in the ballroom before, they certainly did now as everyone stared curiously at Yuri’s sudden shout. Katsuki’s face is beet red and when he pulls himself from the ground, he sways slightly, the sleeves of his button up damp from the wasted champagne. The skater stares at Yuri for a moment, squinting his eyes and the teen bristles, remembering the confrontation in the bathroom.

“Are you trying to pick a fight or something?” Yuri hisses. From the edge of his vision, he can see Yakov bracing to intervene, but Katsuki moves first- and swings himself at Victor.

“Hey,Viiiiictor! Look what I can do!” Victor stares back at the man with a bewildered smile as Katsuki leans out of the man’s personal space to prance off, spinning, spilling, guzzling from the bottle in his hand with a hiccupping laugh.

_Click._

Yuri stares incredulously as Victor takes a photo and then another.

And then Katsuki is back, laughing and loud, and Yuri has no idea what’s going on. Where’s his coach? Why isn’t anyone stopping him?

“Why is everyone so quiet? There’s music let’s dance!” Katsuki hiccups and to Yuri’s horror, starts to unbutton his shirt. He struggles with the last few buttons before deciding to forgo the trouble and rips the last few off with a relieved sigh.

_Click._

“Hey, you bastard!” A tanned man storms over, and Yuri honestly can’t remember his name, but he’s probably someone he should know. “You’re being indecent! There are ladies here,” he snaps, gesturing to behind him to a woman in a blue dress who’s whispering to Mila.

_Sara Crispino,_ his mind recalls and he realizes that the man must be her notoriously over-protective brother. Sara for her part looks amused by the drunken man’s antics and like the idiot next to Yuri, she is rapidly taking pictures as the Katsuki squints at the other Crispino twin.

“…Decent…?” He slurs confusedly.

“Yeah, have some decency!” Crispino hisses and jabs a finger at the man.

Katsuki stares at the finger and brightens, taking it, pulling the man with a joyous whoop as the Italian lets out a strangled yelp. “I’m a pretty decent dancer!” He laughs as he swings the man around in what is unmistakably a waltz. Despite his earlier staggering, Katsuki is impressively coordinated.

“Hey! Let go you-” And apparently also impressively strong as Katsuki continues to laugh as he pulls the struggling man along. The man makes several attempts to pull away, but the drunken man holds on like a vice, all the while singing to the music playing. Badly. Off-key.

Another _click_ goes off next to Yuri and he swears he’s going to have an aneurysm. His not-idol is making a fool of himself, and no one is doing anything to stop him. Victor is too busy taking pictures and laughing with the crowd to care, and even Crispino’s own sister doesn’t look like she is in any hurry to pull her brother out of the impromptu dance.

The song ends, and Katsuki slows, looking confused and dragging along Crispino who looks a little green. In that same instant, Crispino jerks out of the clamp around his wrist, causing Katsuki to whirl about in confusion with a whine. “Where did my partner go? I c- _hic_ -can’t dance _alone_ ,” he pouts until his eyes land on Yuri.

“Hey!” He shouts. “You’re that punk!” Yuri can feel his face reddening and ignores the snort from Victor beside him. “Dance with me!”

“I’m not dancing with you.”

Katsuki doesn’t look bothered at all by the rejection and pulls at Yuri’s wrists. “You don’t want to dance with me…? Then dance against me!” He demands and yanks Yuri’s forward, making him stumble.

“Fuck no, I’m not- “

“Oh, are you scared you might lose against him, Yura?” Victor grins, his phone at the ready.

“I’m not gonna lose to some drunkard like-“

“You’re scared?” Katsuki asks, his eyes big and doey as he lets go of Yuri’s wrist. They start to water as he cries, “I’m sorry!”

“I’m not scared!” Yuuri snaps and the other man brightens again and runs to the center of the ballroom.

“Then come dance!”

By now, the music has changed to something more contemporary with a steady thrumming bass, and Katsuki turns back with a confident grin. He’s breakdancing and Yuri knows he’s staring, but _what the fuck_ -

There’s another _click_ before Victor lets out an impressed whistle and grins down at him. “You still think you can win?”

Yuri grinds his teeth and shoves his water and phone onto Victor.

“Hold my stuff.”

* * *

At some point a pole had appeared and _of course_ Christophe fucking Giacometti started dancing too. Yuri was appropriately disgusted until Katsuki joined the Swiss man and then Yuri became _mortified_.

_Click click click_.

_For blackmail,_ he justifies as he skirts around the cheering crowd, avoiding the glint that will inevitably bring Yakov to drag him away from this insanity. His clothes are still rumpled from the dance, but he ignores it as he stares transfixed by the laughing figure that is seemingly suspending himself in midair.

_Oh god, don’t think about his thighs._

There’s champagne spilling everywhere and the music is blaring in the room. The dj must have stopped caring about propriety because the music alternates between bassy house music and pop EDM. At the center of it all is Katsuki, flushed but still full of energy as he slides off the pole. Someone had thrown him his shirt and tie, and while he manages to pull his arms through the sleeves easily enough, he gives up on his tie when it catches behind his ear, letting it swing freely from his head as he peers about squinting his eyes.

He’s spouting Japanese gibberish and when Giacometti sidles next to him with a confused glance, Katsuki mumbles to himself in garbled English, “My glasses, my glasses…”

 “Ah!” Yuri blinks as Victor disentangles himself from the crowd a bright flush on his face and holding a pair of blue framed glasses. “Are you looking for these?”

Katsuki is still squinting when Victor approaches, but brightens when he recognizes the glasses. He’s babbling, alternating between Japanese and English, and laughs as he puts the glasses back on his face, just narrowly missing his eye.

“Thanks thanks I usually have these on my head but I don’t know how they- “

“Yes?” Victor prompts when the man stops talking, instead staring at him with wide shining eyes. “Yuuri?”

“You’re- you’re Victor. _Victor Nikiforov_ ,” Katsuki breathes before latching on to the man and laughing, babbling in Japanese. It’s something straight out of Yuri’s most bizarre dreams (or nightmares) as he watches Yuuri Katsuki unabashedly _grinding_ against Victor who is frozen in shock. His arms are pinned to his sides by Katsuki’s hug, but he doesn’t make any attempt to free himself, blankly staring at the mess clinging on to him.

Wait, is he _blushing_?

“Be my coach, Viiiictor!”

If he wasn’t before, he definitely is now.

Giacometti lets out a whistle and wriggles his eyebrows suggestively as Yuri chokes on air, seething at the two.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Yuri intervenes, stomping up to them. Katsuki pauses in mid-undulation and Yuri has to take a moment to compose himself with how risqué and debauched the Japanese man looks even with his soft brown eyes blinking innocently.

(It doesn’t help.)

“No more dancing, where’s your chaperone.” Never mind that Katsuki is 23 and an adult because after witnessing this mess of a night, there is no way Yuri can believe that his coach lets him go around getting sloshed alone.

The Japanese man whines in protest, somehow pressing himself even closer to the man he is grinding against. “No no no! I want to dance with Victor! You’ll dance with me won’t you?” He asks Victor who lets out a small squeak before nodding yes as an uncharacteristic flush further darkens his face.

“You will?” Katsuki gasps before pressing closer with a squeal. “I’m gonna dance with Victor Nikiforov!”

Victor looks disgustingly disappointed as Katsuki finally releases his hold around the man’s waist until the drunk drags him away, Yuri completely forgotten in favor of the dance floor.

“Oh my god,” Yuri breathes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for how long this chapter took! School has been really rough recently, and I was debating on adding more to this, but it got so long that I ended up cutting the rest for chapter 3. Hopefully the next update won't take too long.
> 
> Hit me up on [my tumblr](http://rei-drome.tumblr.com/)! \o/

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea brewing ever since the series finished so I'm really glad to get this thing started! 
> 
> If you want to chat, hmu at rei-drome.tumblr.com


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